Celeb crush.

The honest truth: I have a MAJOR crush on a probably homosexual Olympian.

(wow, I can sincerely say I never thought I'd write that sentence.)

I say "probably homosexual" because this is all he'll say about it: "There are some things I keep sacred. My middle name. Who I sleep with. And what kind of hand moisturizer I use." If that doesn't say enough about quintessentially controversial Johnny Weir, I don't know what does. And now all I do is watch videos of him on Youtube, follow his Twitter account and read obsessive news articles about him on sexually questionable websites. I really don't understand why I find him so attractive, but I seriously cannot help it. He is just incredibly sexy. I like his anti-Establishment attitude, quick-witted comments, androgynous beauty, and confident individuality.  Plus, he's smart, despite his diva image--he studied linguistics for some time at the University of Delaware, picking up French and Russian. Interestingly enough, he's rooming with Tanith Belbin, a US women's ice dancer, at the secure Olympic Village in Vancouver after he and his costume designer received death threats from crazed PETA disciples about his fox-fur-lined ensemble. He removed the fur, but quipped, "I don't think PETA will ever realize that wearing fur is fabulous," and "You know, animals wear fur coats, so I don’t see any reason why I can’t. It’s discrimination, I think." He decorated the apartment he and Tanith share with neon pillows, pop star posters, and scented candles. And the precious three-time US national champion doesn't limit himself to skating. He has modeled for a friend's fashion label and posed shirtless in three-inch heels for his documentary film and subsequent reality show. At five foot nine and 135 pounds, it's beyond logical why he's so appealing to a girl used to crushing on beefy celebs.

And imagine this little scene (2006, maybe?):
"All of a sudden I was causing a stir because I was wearing a chinchilla scarf that someone thought was a boa. First of all, boas are so out. Secondly, I would never wear a boa to a press conference."
At next press conference: "Is the writer from USA Today here?" (writer raises hand.) "That was a scarf, not a boa -- dead chinchilla, not feathers."
But there's more to Johnny Weir than sparkles and designer labels. He's the dark-haired, edgy, gorgeous, young, bad-boy artist-type every girl has a right to want sometime in life. Right?


Whatever.

You go on rocking outfits of pink sparkles and animal fur and worshiping weird good luck charms, the Zohar and Lady Gaga, Johnny. I'm (inexplicably) on board one hundred percent.